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<title>Different Not Normal by jaskier-cult (May1974)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519673">Different Not Normal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/May1974/pseuds/jaskier-cult'>jaskier-cult (May1974)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Child Neglect, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/May1974/pseuds/jaskier-cult</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian Alfred Pankratz was born Different. </p><p>And as the firstborn son of the viscount of Lettenhove cries beneath the old oak tree, buttercups grow under his feet and dandelions blow in the wind.</p><p>His mother, who followed him, turns pale.</p><p>And she is terribly reminded of the black henbane and bloodroot caging the graves in the back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Different Not Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this idea took hold of me at 3am one quiet September morning, and two months later I have an eleven page document on Word that I keep editing and adding onto. I think I'm happy enough with what I have now, but I definitely want to explore this au in the time canon is set (where I will obviously be cherry picking canon and making up my own fanon). So, if this is liked, I might write a part two or make it a series? </p><p>Also, don't be afraid to leave comments about what you thought of it! </p><p>I'm new at writing for The Witcher fandom, and am a slut for non-human Jaskier, so I would love reviews!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Madeleine Caillebotte of Armeria and Alfred Gabriel Pankratz of Lettenhove were married in August under an arch braided with buttercups.</p><p>Both noble families were in attendance to witness the arranged marriage that would solidify the union between Armeria and Lettenhove, which were now trading partners and past long-time feuding neighbours. Her Lady Madeleine wore a baby blue dress that hung with a golden lining. His Lord Alfred bore his father’s ceremonial sword at his hip, adorned with jewels of far off lands.</p><p>Young and terribly in love, the nobles kissed under the arch.</p><p>Three months later, they fell pregnant.</p><p>It was a joyous occasion when Madeleine Caillebotte of Armeria, now countess of Lettenhove and newlywed wife of Alfred Gabriel Pankratz, discovered her pregnancy.</p><p>They were complimented by their noble peers and people alike when it took little effort on Madeleine’s part to fall pregnant. They were praised by their healers and midwives when the pregnancy was smooth and easy. Madeleine practically glowed. The pregnancy milestones hit like clockwork. And when the nine-month mark hit, she went into labour.</p><p>That’s when complications arose.</p><p>The countess fell faint with painful contractions. Labour lasted a consecutive twenty-six hours. The midwife and healers were late. The babe was delivered without help.</p><p>Her babe is stillborn.</p><p>It would have been a girl.</p><p>But there is was no use in what would have been, or naming the stillborn, because there was no fruit for their labour. The babe is buried in the back of their garden with an unmarked gravestone, for mourning.</p><p>A few months pass before the two nobles try again, still and love and wanting for a child.</p><p>Again, they fall pregnant easily. Celebrations are twice as boisterous as before, putting stock in the second chance the gods had given the Lettenhove noble family. Their would-have-been firstborn is forgotten in the wake of a new expected babe.</p><p>When the nine-month mark hit, complications arose.</p><p>The delivery is difficult. Labour lasts for sixteen hours and counting, shorter than the last pregnancy, but more painful. Madeleine almost loses too much blood, the babe is breeched, and the countess passes out during labour, unable to keep up pushing.</p><p>Her babe is stillborn.</p><p>It would have been another girl.</p><p>Tears are shed for another would-have-been babe, but there was no use for naming, because there was no fruit for their labour. The babe is buried in the back garden alongside the last with another unmarked gravestone, for mourning.</p><p>The nobles try again, hopeful.</p><p>This time they do not have celebrations. They do not accept favours from neighbouring noble families, they do not throw a party, they do not announce it to their lands. Instead, this time, they visit as many healers and mages as possible, and pray to the gods every day and night in hope for a healthy born babe. Their prayers must be heard, because the pregnancy is once again easy. Madeleine practically glows. It’s even easier than the first two times.</p><p>But then the nine-month mark hits, and complications arise.</p><p>The babe is stillborn.</p><p>Another girl.</p><p>Another unmarked grace.</p><p>Again, they try. And again, they fall pregnant. And again, the babe is born at nine months to the second and is stillborn. All are girls and all are buried in unmarked graves.</p><p>The gravestones line up on the Lettenhove estate.</p><p>Six stillborn babes and nothing, and the Pankratz family is desperate.</p><p>Tension runs high. Arguments and fights break out amongst the once lovers, so happy with their arranged marriage, now angry and bitter. Fingers are pointed every which way for who is at fault for the problems with fertility and birth. Madeleine breaks down sobbing in another man’s arms for comfort, a secret between the countess and the young minstrel presiding in their manor. Alfred leaves for hours and drinks away the sorrows in the bottom of a bottle when he laments over the loss of children and an heir. At the end of the day, both always go back to one another, but the relationship is tenuous and wearing thin. Courting offers from close noble families lay at the viscount’s desk every morning.</p><p>Then the viscountess begins to panic.</p><p>If Madeleine can’t produce an heir for their estate, she knows she will be killed or divorced, with nothing to her name. She was the fifth-born daughter of her family, only used for political gain, and has no place back at her home estate. She must bear a child, and there’s only one thing she can do.</p><p>It’s early spring, and in the middle of the night, Madeleine sneaks out and runs to the forest.</p><p>The viscountess knows she should not be in the forest, especially not alone. Predators prowl at night, and not of the natural kind.</p><p>But in the middle of a field of wildflowers, she prays.</p><p>“I need a babe,” she cries. “I’m tired. I want no longer. I need a babe.”</p><p>Someone must hear her, because she gets an answer.</p><p>A creature unlike anything she had ever seen before steps into the moonlight.</p><p>Black henbane and bloodroot flowers curl under their toes and their eyes gleam silver. They look human in a way one would if they saw a human once-upon-a-time and had attempted to replicate the image from a dream. They’re tall and willowy, and their skin is flushed pale under the moon. Their ears curl and their teeth are sharp. Something dances with their fingers.</p><p>They’re very much human, but Different. They’re Different in a way a Normal would know, even if they didn’t know they knew.</p><p>But despite this, the countess isn’t scared.</p><p>Madeleine is entranced.</p><p>“Who are you?” She demands.</p><p>Lettenhove was not known for its Differentness. They were more Normal than most parts of the Continent, and that was something the Pankratz family took pride in. They had a scarcity of monsters and magic. Or, they were supposed to.</p><p>“I can help,” the creature says, and their voice is deep and smooth. “I can grant you what you yearn.”</p><p>“But why would you help?” She says.</p><p>“I can do it, for a price.”</p><p>Now, the countess isn’t stupid. So, she becomes wary. She had long heard about the give and take of chaos as a child, through the ballads and tales wandering bards would spin.</p><p>“It’s simple,” the creatures assured her. “I will give you a child – I will give you back what you have lost – but I ask this only in favour for the first. I only ask for what you do not have, but for which you don’t know you want.”</p><p>Madeleine laughs. How can you take what someone does not have?</p><p>The creature is a fool.</p><p>“My name is Breuganaifìrinn,” the creature says. “And you shall but kiss me for destiny.”</p><p>She’s dragging him into a heated kiss before he can finish.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian Alfred Pankratz is born Different.</p><p>He is born to the viscount of Lettenhove under a full moon that is blue. A blessing, some said. An omen, others said. Whatever they said, they were hushed into the shadows and secrets, for the viscount would not have his son spoken poorly of among peasants.</p><p>It’s winter, and he is born under the first snow on the thirteenth. A late winter.</p><p>And his mother, Madeleine, sweat shining on her brow, takes the little babe in her arms after hours of hard labour. Pride swelled in her chest. The pregnancy had been unbearable, and they thought they had lost the babe many times. But now in her arms is her sweet little Julian. He has a thick tuff of soft brown hair, almost golden in the dim lantern light.</p><p>And Julian is red and icky, but he is perfect. He is too quiet and too still, but he is perfect. He is small and thin, but he is perfect.</p><p>But then he opens his eyes, and Madeleine’s breath catches.</p><p>His eyes are blue.</p><p>His eyes are the moon.</p><p>Her little Julian is no longer perfect.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian Alfred Pankratz is soon handed to his father, when the healers and midwives deem the babe strong enough. As consequence, his father is the second person to see his blue eyes.</p><p>The midwife ushers the viscount into the room once the babe is taken from his mother and hastily washed in a basin of water and wrapped. The viscount kneels by his wife’s bedside, eyes wide, as he takes in his firstborn son. Little Julian, who was too still and scared the healers, quietly gazed up at his father with his blue eyes.</p><p>He opened his mouth for the first time.</p><p>And he wailed.</p><p>And he never stopped making noise after that.</p><p>And instantly, Alfred Gabriel Pankratz was smitten.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian hates the colour blue.</p><p>His eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so he hated the colour blue.</p><p>When they made eye contact, when she looked down at her firstborn son, every time his mother’s expression would tighten. Her lips would become pursed, her eyes would darken, and she would look at Julian as if he had done something wrong. As if he was disappointing her.</p><p>But Julian tried so hard to be perfect.</p><p>He sat still at the dinner table, he didn’t fuss when he was dressed, he listened when told what to do, and he never complained or wailed after the first spanking his mother gave him.</p><p>But still, it wasn’t enough for his mother.</p><p>He was enough for his father.</p><p>His father would praise his blue eyes. The estate staff would praise his blue eyes. A far cousin once said that she was jealous of his blue eyes, because all she had was brown.</p><p>But that was all Julian wished for, was brown eyes. He wished so dearly to have the brown eyes of his parents – to have the warm fondness lingering in his father’s eyes, or to have the vibrant woodsy brown of his mother’s eyes.</p><p>But Julian had blue, so he hated the colour blue.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>There was a common saying – “a face only a mother could love” – that seemed to apply to Julian. It applied because it was ironic. It was ironic because everyone <em>but</em> his mother seemed to love him.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian is gifted a younger brother when he is yet old enough to talk. When he has not yet learned of his wanting for love, for Normal.</p><p>His mother and father try for another child too soon and fall pregnant almost too easily. The pregnancy is smooth, almost too easy. The midwives hold their breath as the viscountess goes into labour, expecting the same ill curse of stillborn babes to continue haunting the Pankratz family, but they’re pleasantly surprised. A healthy babe is born, a boy, that is named Hanson Alfred Pankratz. The spare to the Lettenhove estate.</p><p>Madeleine has done her duty to the viscount; an heir and a spare.</p><p>Hanson is born in early autumn, in September, on the thirteenth.</p><p>Hanson has blonde hair and beautiful brown eyes.</p><p>He wails as soon as he takes his first breath.</p><p>He’s pink and squirms and shakes his first.</p><p>And he’s perfect.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>More siblings follow, one after the other, all pregnancies easy and glowing. One babe each year, nine months to the second. The years are filled with bountiful harvest and good economy. The noble family thrives. After Hanson there’s Edmond, with dark brown hair and rich brown eyes. Following the first three sons, the Pankratz family is blessed with a healthy girl, whom they name Isemay Caillebotte Pankratz.</p><p>Isemay is the spitting image of her mother, Madeleine. Soft brown hair and woodsy brown eyes, and she has a cute little button nose, too. The first daughter is soon gifted a younger brother, another boy, called Oscar, who could be her twin they look so alike.</p><p>Two more babes follow, making a total of seven children.</p><p>A lucky number.</p><p>A blessed number.</p><p>Pricilla Caillebotte is born next, another healthy girl, who sports the same blonde as her older brother Edmond, and the natural brown of her father’s eyes.</p><p>Carellus is born within the same year, Priscilla in January, her younger brother in late autumn. He looks like his older sister’s twin, with slightly lighter blonde hair and sprite brown eyes.</p><p>All Pankratz children have brown eyes.</p><p>Except for Julian, the firstborn.</p><p>Julian is the only one with blue eyes.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian grows up yearning for his mother’s love. All he wants is to feel her touch him without flinching, to see her look at him without contempt.</p><p>He wants to hear her tell him she loves him.</p><p>His mother tells him a lot of things, but she never tells him she loves him.</p><p>She tells Julian that he must be a proper noble boy. She tells Julian his infatuation with music and flowers and nature are bad and wrong and Different. She tells him to hide his Different nature. She tells Julian that he can be fixed, if he would just let her help him get rid of the Differentness.</p><p>She tells Julian he was born Different. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, but she could fix him. His mother doesn’t tell him anything else, but she doesn’t have to.</p><p>He knows he is Different.</p><p>It doesn’t have to be drilled into him everyday.</p><p>He is Different in a way that he blends in well enough, is almost impossible to spot out of the masses, but with which the Normal know something is off. Humans know he is not One of Them, even if they don’t know they know.</p><p>His blue eyes make sure of that, an inhuman feature on an otherwise human boy.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Before any of his siblings were born, Julian is but a mere six months old when his teeth finally start to grow in. His father, Alfred, is simply delighted to play with his rascal son. He loves to indulge in Julian’s incessant need to chew on everything to alleviate the pain of his growing-in teeth. He’s hitting all his milestones perfectly, and the viscount could not be more pleased with his firstborn son.</p><p>His mother watches with unease.</p><p>When his teeth fully grow-in, they’re sharper than Normal.</p><p>But not sharp enough to be Different.</p><p>So, Madeleine leaves it be.</p><p>Until years later, when he’s six with six siblings, and he starts losing his baby teeth.</p><p>Fangs grow in.</p><p>Horrified, his mother takes to filing them down in secret.</p><p>It’s a messy procedure to do alone, but Madeleine Pankratz is not a foolish woman. She knows how the gossip would spread amongst her servants and ladies in waiting. She knows how the secret of Julian’s Differentness would escape their estate. She does not know how the viscount would respond to knowing his perfect firstborn son is not so perfect after all.</p><p>So, she grips her crying child in an iron hold, and she takes a file to his teeth.</p><p>This follows Julian all throughout his childhood, and he wishes he could stop his canines from growing in sharp every month. He wishes his eyes weren’t blue. He wishes he was Normal not Different.</p><p>Poor little Julian cries and screams and thrashes as his mother forces him into a dark room to file them down every month.</p><p>“Hurts, ma!” He cries every time.</p><p>He cries even when he is eight and is old enough to know that his Differentness is not okay. Is old enough to know he must do this to make his mother love him, no matter how much it hurts.</p><p>His mother holds him tighter.</p><p>Julian’s head vibrates with unease and pain as the file scrapes along his canines.</p><p>They’re filed down too low and there is blood, and it’s Julian’s fault, he’s told. He didn’t cooperate, he was too difficult. The metallic tang feels familiar in his mouth in a way that his newly shortened teeth do not. His mother holds him closer, not tighter.</p><p>“I love you, Julian,” she says. “I only do this because I love you.”</p><p>It’s the first time she tells him she loves him.</p><p>As far as he can remember, at least.</p><p>But for some reason, Julian feels his chest constrict painfully.</p><p>The admission did not feel as good as he wished it to be.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian is eight, and his fangs are filed down, when he runs crying to the gardens of their estate. He runs and runs until he collapses underneath the biggest tree they have, where the estate gardeners do not bother with upkeep, where he can sit in shade and cover. And Julian tries so hard to be quiet. He doesn’t want his mother to find him; he does not want to hear that she does this because she loves him. It hurts too much to hear.</p><p>And as the firstborn son of the viscount of Lettenhove cries beneath the old oak tree, buttercups grow under his feet and dandelions blow in the wind.</p><p>His mother, who followed him, turns pale.</p><p>And she is terribly reminded of the black henbane and bloodroot caging the graves in the back.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian hated his blue eyes.</p><p>They were too blue, too bright. They caught too much attention. That was all anyone ever saw when they looked at Julian, were his blue eyes, his Differentness.</p><p>And all he wanted was to be noticed for being Normal.</p><p>To try and distract from his blue eyes, Julian used clothes as another, more overpowering form, of attention-grabbing. He took to wearing brightly coloured garbs. He would wear everything from blood red to deathly purple. He would wear ridiculously gaudy clothes to drown out the bright blue. It didn’t work. He wore drab clothes, cloths and fabrics to make him look pale and gaunt, but still his blue eyes shone. He would style his hair just so, so that it hung over his face and shaded his eyes. He would do anything he could to stop others from noticing his blue eyes.</p><p>It never worked.</p><p>The more over-the-top the clothes, the more colour he drowned himself in, the more attention his eyes seemed to draw.</p><p>They would glow.</p><p>They would shine.</p><p>His blue eyes would do anything to draw attention to themselves, and Julian hated blue so fervently.</p><p>His mother’s lingering looks of discomfort and hate stayed, and Julian hated blue with his very being.</p><p>Blue ruined his life.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Julian’s siblings were a grab-bag of friends. He loved them all very dearly. As the eldest, he felt responsible for them, felt a protective urge for his younger brothers and sisters.</p><p>All were close in one way or another, especially the three eldest brothers – Julian, Hanson, and Edmond – but none of them truly understood Julian’s struggles. His brothers and sisters grew tired of his lamenting over his blue eyes and teased him about being vain, about trying to draw more attention to his blue eyes, when that was the last thing he wanted.</p><p>They all had brown eyes and would scoff when he expressed jealously.</p><p>They didn’t understand his hate of blue because they all had the love of their mother.</p><p>Sometimes he didn’t think she was his mother.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>Of all the colours, though, Julian found solace in one.</p><p>Yellow.</p><p>Yellow was the colour of the gold his mother cherished so deeply. The colour that would drape across her collar and wrists and ankles in a beautiful fashion.</p><p>Yellow was the colour of the bright dandelions and buttercups that would grow, only for him.</p><p>Yellow was the colour of the sun and happiness and everything good.</p><p>Yellow had never done anything wrong.</p><p>And Julian loved yellow with all the love he didn’t waste on blue, because in his mind they were opposites; blue and yellow, one made of destruction and one made of light.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>The first time Julian dressed in yellow, he wanted to cry.</p><p>The colour he loved so much could still not drown away his blue eyes.</p><p>In fact, the bright buttercup yellow of his doublet made his eyes stand out even more. He tried gold and amber and dandelion, but his eyes were bluer than blue. And his mother still hated his eyes.</p><p>His eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so Julian hated the colour blue.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>One day, his younger sister suggested he try wearing blue.</p><p>Priscilla, the second youngest Pankratz, was rounding out to be a problem child. Where the other girls were learning how to be proper noble ladies, she was following her big brother Julian around their estate like a lost puppy.</p><p>Everything he did, she wanted to do, too.</p><p>Priscilla wanted to learn how to sew flower crowns like her brother Julian. Priscilla wanted to learn how to wield a rapier like her brother Julian. And when Julian’s interest in music was discovered, Priscilla wanted to follow him with a lute of her own.</p><p>Separated by five years, they were still thick as thieves. In line with his first two brothers, Hanson and Edmond, Priscilla was Julian’s favourite sibling. She was wild like he was, but held all the Normal that Julian was lacking, and he felt better when he played with her. Like somehow, he could blend in with the Normal just a little bit longer, because she didn’t care that he was Different.</p><p>And though Julian loved his little sister, the mere thought of touching a blue doublet made him physically shake with hate and anger and disgust.</p><p>Still, he indulged her, if only because she looked so hopeful.</p><p>“This will go perfect with your bright eyes,” Priscilla says.</p><p>Priscilla will use any number of words to describe Julian’s eyes. She will use descriptors like bright eyes and big eyes and beautiful eyes.</p><p>But she never just says blue.</p><p>He steps out from behind the divider and does a twirl to amuse his sister. He’s wearing a cerulean blue doublet with matching trousers, accented by red and yellow. He feels awful. But his sister’s breath catches, and her brown eyes go wide. Her expression is pale in shocked awe.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” she says, breathless, like she’s seeing him for the first time.</p><p>He turns to face his mirror.</p><p>His blue eyes blend in with the doublet, making them shine twice as bright, and the yellow and red are stark in contrast. He looks unusually pale in the get-up, his freckles more prominent, his hair darker than the blonde it had started to grow into.</p><p>He doesn’t see what Priscilla sees. All he can see are his eyes, too blue.</p><p>Julian rips the doublet off in anger, upset with everything and nothing, and his sister never asks him to wear blue again. She never mentions the word again.</p><p>Priscilla may not know the reason behind it all, because Julian sees the love she holds for their mother and would never forgive himself if he ruined that, but she learns to avoid blue. Because Julian’s eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so he hated the colour blue.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>One day Julian woke up and realized he didn’t want to be himself anymore.</p><p>It was a startling realization. It hurt too, like a sudden wound, and for over an hour he laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling with impossibly blue eyes, heart hollow and aching. He didn’t want to be himself, but he didn’t want to be anyone else. More specifically, he realized, he didn’t want to be what his mother so desperately tried to force him to be.</p><p>He was Different not Normal.</p><p>He was born like that, his mother said. It was wrong, she said. He needed to be right, she said.</p><p>But she never told him what was right, only what she wanted him to be. And for years, his entire life, he tried to meet her expectations. He tried so hard for her love.</p><p><em>How fucked up is that?</em> He thought, for the first time.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>That was the day Jaskier was born.</p>
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